More Math

Mother, it’s been a month since my last confession.

Only a month?

More.

Why?

I’ve been busy. Kids were home for the holidays. Their dad went to Baja California Sur. I had them all to myself.

Ah.

Yup.

Nice?

God. That felt so right. They’re mine, dammit, no matter what any fuckin Kundalini yoga teacher bitch sez, no matter what Kahlil Kibran wrote. They don’t have kids.
And you do.

Yeah.

And that wasn’t easy, was it?

Growing up, you mean? No, I resisted for much of my life. Didn’t want to be my mother. She had six kids and no life.

So, you had a life.

Have a life. I have a life. A beautiful, fucking gorgeous life.

And now he’s back, their father?

Yup, and the boys are with him this weekend. I have a little space. Little Black is beside me. When I’m home, we’re together. A cat’s life is a good life. Now she’s looking out the window. Her ears swivel, her whiskers navigate unseen stimuli, her head tilts up as she watches a gang of crows on the hydro line outside.

And you are here.

I am here. A little older, a little smoother, a lot happier.

Since when?

Since I started the math. Math is so perfect. Math always works. It’s obvious when there’s no solution. Learn the formula, apply it, and, presto! It’s the dogma I’ve been seeking all my life.

Nice.

Yeah. When I’m thinking about math, I’m not thinking about how much I miss the boys, or that the zeros in my bank account still precede the other digits, instead of the other way around.

Hmm.

In math, even a negative number can be positive if you put absolute value brackets around it.

Like Andy.

Yeah, Andy’s my absolute value brackets.

Anything else to report?

My babies are growing up. On Rio’s 6th birthday, Silas had a little bubba snack and told me there’s no more milk. I was a lactating mama mammal for six years. And now that’s done.

And you’re sad about that?

Tears. But I'm not sad. It’s just another milestone. The end of something. The start of something else.

Now what?

More math.

Peace, daughter.

Peace, mother.

Sir Prize

Cadboro Bay. The red octopus reaches tentacles into the sea. The swings stand in ocean overflow. The littlest one sleeps. Sir Prize calls me Lady Diamond (in the Rough). The bigger boy, Sir Rio, sets forth across the great inland sea. Come, he calls us, on my mission. The sun smiles. Seven sailboats ride the wind. Clouds dance like lavalamp. Sir Rio cocks an ear. Is that thunder? Driftwood logs drum on the shore. We play until it's time to go home.